


Wake

by NyxEclipse



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Denial of Feelings, Kissing, M/M, Some feels, Throw characterisation out of the window, flip a coin and see if this ends happily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEclipse/pseuds/NyxEclipse
Summary: Someone is licking his hand.A sequel toJust Another Daybut can be read as a standalone.





	Wake

There is a wet sensation on his left palm.

It feels vaguely familiar, yet Gilgamesh struggles to remember where he felt it before. The fogginess of sleep has yet to leave him which makes it hard to think. Although he just woke from what felt like a long rest, he still feels exhausted and sluggish for some reason. His mind refuses to cooperate and utilise rational thought. With how heavy his eyelids feel, Gilgamesh wishes he could just lie in bed all day like the dead.

The soft and wet feeling ghosts over the somewhat healed wound on his palm again and he finally remembers.

Like any other typical king or person in great power, the urge to keep exotic pets had come and gone like the wind—a whim more than anything else. As the Wise King of Uruk who governed over the masses in a fair yet firm manner, he would never waste resources on keeping such a high maintenance thing. His younger self, however, had been enamoured with all kinds of rare animals. Lions—in particular—had been one of his favourites. Even till today, Gilgamesh would remember one lion with great fondness.

Its name had been Sepsu, a fitting name given how powerful the beast was; the king had found the lonesome thing tearing off the head of one of its handlers in the black market. The exotic animal trade had always been a thriving one, given how many of the wealthier citizens wanted to keep snakes or strange birds to show off their status. Lions were, of course, included as well. Just, people tended to be a little wearier of them considering the immediate danger associated with the proud animal.

Not to short-change snakes of their danger though; those things were vicious in their own right—his personal bitter experience with them only solidifying the fact.

Now, it appeared that this headless trader had been rather lacking in intelligence. From the ajar cage door, the blonde could only assume that the moron had left it unlocked—or something along the likes—with his back turned. Who could blame the magnificent beast for taking up the tasty meal presented so conveniently to it?

Sepsu had then been brought back to his palace with little fuss. It had immediately taken a shine to him upon their initial meeting—licking and nuzzling his face like a playful housecat rather than the feral animal it was. This rule did not apply to others, however; one of his maids had the misfortune of finding that out the hard way when she went to pet it and found herself lacking a hand by the end of the experience.

But that was years ago; his pet lion had long since died and returned to the earth. As nostalgic this licking sensation was, Gilgamesh was not one to believe in ghosts.

When the licking turns into kisses, the king finally decides to crack open his eyes.

He is met with the sight of his servant kneeling on the ground with his palm in his hands. Long white hair falls to the sides of his face in waves while purple eyes are focused on his self-appointed task. His movements are slow—timid even—considering how the blonde always seems so averse to physical contact. The kisses his hand is peppered with are feathery light and ticklish, but he startles a little in pain when he feels teeth nip at the edges of his wound.

“Ah.”

His servant is looking at him now with those honest eyes like usual. The purple orbs widen a fraction upon seeing him awake.

“Did I wake you?”

The Magus of Flowers is as concerned as always. The first and foremost matter in his mind would always be his king’s health.

“I would have woken eventually,” Gilgamesh feels the odd need to reassure the magus.

That look he is giving him makes him vaguely uncomfortable. Enkidu would often stare at him affectionately, but that was affection between close friends or brothers. The countless women he had bedded in his younger days had stared at him too—but those were stares of fear or forced interest. His people? They would stare at him in terror in the past and blind worship in the present.

This sort of tender gaze is something he is not accustomed to. The kind of gaze that Merlin gives him so freely and frequently causes a budding spark of warmth to slowly grow inside him. It feels nice—he concludes—to have someone constantly look out for him tirelessly, although it also makes him uncertain about how things would play out.

Sometimes he wonders, what did he do to deserve such a wonderful servant? The only other significantly amazing thing that occurred in his life had been his one and only friend— and look how that had ended. Merlin was not his friend; he had promised that there would be only one to take that spot beside him.

So, what was the Magus of Flowers to him?

His musings are interrupted by the fast-approaching face of his servant. Although he started his little ministrations at his palm and slowly made his way up his arm, he has already reached his neck now. Gilgamesh watches on in mild curiosity, wondering what the magus plans to do next. Despite the disaster that had occurred yesterday, he rationalises that he could afford to fool around with his servant for a while. Siduri would have to handle the early morning paperwork herself.

Upon realising that his master has done nothing so far to stop him, Merlin takes it as a sign to continue and grows bolder in his actions. He gives the other a sly smile before attacking his neck with his mouth. The Magus sucks and nibbles gently on pale skin with his skilled mouth, not forgetting to pepper the quivering flesh with occasional kisses. Gilgamesh does not disappoint as he trembles at the sensations—his body overwhelmed at the attention it is receiving as his head falls back onto the pillows. The white-haired magus climbs onto the bed to get full access to the blonde’s neck and does not stop his relentless assault the whole time.

The blonde’s frantic arms try their best to push the magus off him. Merlin is attacking a particular spot on his neck that renders him weak in the knees and panting slightly. The loss of control is unnerving—unsightly even; it is a notion not fitting of a king. But unfortunately for the King of Uruk, his servant has already had a taste of this rare opportunity and is determined to see things to its end. For some reason, the idea of using the Gate of Babylon to blast the annoying Magus to pieces never crosses his mind. A strange war occurs in his mind: one part of him simply wants to bask in the pleasure while the other is reluctant to relinquish control so utterly to another. Eventually, the pleasure-seeking side wins and he allows Merlin to continue to lavish his neck with love. He even encourages this by gently running his hands through the Magus’ long hair—the random thought of tying it into various styles crossing his mind.

A good while later and Merlin is finally done, resulting in a rather alluring sight. The King of Uruk lies sprawled on his bed with only his pants on—reduced to nothing more than a flustered mess. His hair sticks out slightly from its normally tidy hairstyle and a heated flush stains his cheeks; his neck is full of red marks that stand out starkly against pale skin. Straddling him at the waist is his white-haired servant who has stopped his kissing for now and—rather—is simply drawing lazy circles on the other’s chest while admiring his handiwork.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

The king’s voice holds a slightly mocking tone as if trying to prove his superiority, but it is woefully unconvincing given their current position and his dishevelled appearance. 

“Of course, my king. How can I be anything but eager when it comes to you?” the white-haired male answers back brightly, his voice brimming with sincerity.

Gilgamesh frowns at that; that was not the reaction he was anticipating. Although, considering who he is talking to, he supposes it is not that surprising. He could never hope to understand the insufferable Magus’ flower stuffed brain—nor did he wish to.

Then again, looking at that puppy-like expression of eagerness on the other’s face, he cannot help but feels a sense of warmth bloom is his heart. Finding loyal subjects is no easy feat and loyal subjects should be rewarded.

Staring straight into his servant’s eyes, he gently holds his chin with his uninjured hand and pulls his face down for a kiss. Purple irises are blown wide in surprise and the blond takes pride in putting such an amusing look on his face. Their contact up till this point had been mainly cuddling and some kisses on the cheek and hand; it is an understandable reaction as this was probably the first time he had ever initiated a kiss—and a kiss on the lips no less.

Well, Merlin’s expression was nice and all, but he should probably focus his attention on the kiss should he want to come out on top. If the Magus’ earlier actions have taught him anything, it was that his servant is probably a good kisser going by how skilled his mouth was.

Their kiss starts off slow—initially being just a simple press of lips. Then Gilgamesh finds a tongue prodding inquisitively at his lips for entrance once Merlin gets over his shock. With little hesitation, he allows the tongue entry. The eager tongue immediately sets to work licking all around his mouth, as if trying to taste every corner of the warm cavity. Gilgamesh feels his eyes slipping shut as he immerses himself into the kiss.

His hands circle around the other and lock them into a tight embrace, while the Magus settles for cupping his cheeks with his hands instead, an action that would probably have him frying the insolent Magus with his magic had he not been enjoying himself so much. The blonde’s tongue flicks encouragingly at Merlin’s and—to his immense shock—finds it being held hostage by the other. The white-haired male sucks aggressively at his tongue and Gilgamesh surprises them both by letting out a muffled, heady moan.

“Hah...ah.”

The wide-eyed look of surprise is back on his servant’s face. During all their time together, the Wise King of Uruk has always been rather reserved and collected. He ruled his city with an iron fist in a harsh, yet fair manner. It had been recognised—without any words needed—that Gilgamesh was a self-assured individual and was always in control of his actions, which by default, extended to his behaviour in the bedroom.

After all, he was an experienced lover who normally took the dominant role. While it was not exactly the proudest moment of his life, he had slept with a great number of women in the past through various means. He was by no means a virgin, yet this embarrassing display—

“—I love you, Gil.”

The Magus of Flowers utters those four words with a shy smile gracing his lips; his entire face glows with happy satisfaction. Purple eye curved into crescents, his whole figure radiates delight. So great was his joy, that the blonde could practically see stars sparkling around him. It makes him want to return the gesture—but then the words sink in.

And Gilgamesh simply untangles himself from their messy tangle of limbs and searches for new clothes to make himself look presentable. He does not have to turn around to see the surly disappointed look on Merlin’s face. While his heart has long grown cold and heavy from the countless tragedies that have befallen Uruk as of late, these actions of his leave a gnawing ache in him for some reason. The wonderful euphoria and foreign feeling of elation that had overtaken him when he kissed his servant rapidly fades—leaving in place his solitary Wise King façade.

That had been dangerous; indulging in that sensation of pleasant warmth had allowed it to grow so rapidly that it actually sacred him.

What is this?

What is this he is feeling?

There is fondness he feels towards the other—that much he is willing to admit. However, the feeling that is growing in his chest is not quite like anything before. It is a warm, fond feeling quite similar to what he felt with Enkidu, just stronger in a different way.

Was this love perhaps?

…love?

He squashes the thought out of his mind immediately.

What good would love do? As King of Uruk, he had a duty to perform; his people were depending on him. No—humanity’s fate rested on his shoulders. While it might sound arrogant, he was certain that if he did not lead his people in defending against the gods, there would be little left of humanity to salvage once the gods were done with their rampage.

There is no place for love for the Wise King of Uruk.

Thus, he purposefully leaves the feeling unnamed, although he has a sneaking suspicion that his earlier hunch might not be too far off. Naming that emotion would do them both no good in the long run; their time together was pitifully little ultimately. It was best that nothing further developed, or when the time came to give it up—there would only be more pain on both their parts. If he had felt that way from just a heated kiss, what would happen if they went all the way?

The results are unthinkable to him. While sex has always been a form trivial of entertainment to him, he has a feeling that with his servant, it would change their relationship irreversibly—with no turning back at that point.

“Now is hardly the time to be taking a rest mongrel. Attend to your duties, as I will mine.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can consider them. While a little harsh—much like a slap in the face to the once eager Magus—it is a necessary sacrifice in the long run. What had he been thinking, allowing themselves to fool around like this? There were so many reports to read and people to organise. Siduri might be a capable woman, but such a volume of work is beyond her ability. To think he had considered leaving her alone in dealing with the aftermath of yesterday’s events, how more irresponsible could he get?

So many things to do, yet so little time.

Where had he left off? Oh right—there were still a few hundred citizens who needed new homes, new farmland to organise and tend to, food rationing to plan…

With that, Gilgamesh leaves his room, all thoughts of his servant leaving his mind. The gold glided doors slam shut, with a crestfallen Magus still inside.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand, up next will be porn! (which I can't write by the way)
> 
> Gotta balance out the cracky stuff I write with the feels. 
> 
> Sepsu basically just means 'powerful' in Sumerian. I only used that because I'm terrible at naming things...  
> :(


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